


Mount Kirchberg

by Marshmallows



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallows/pseuds/Marshmallows
Summary: Being trapped in a cave might have been easier: if Lancelot wasn't both hungry and thirsty, especially for the childhood friend he was currently (secretly in love) with.
Relationships: Lancelot/Vane
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	Mount Kirchberg

**Author's Note:**

> I started this 2 years ago in hopes for Vane's 5* AND NOW THE TIME HAS COME AND SO HAVE I!!!!!! I still can't believe SSR Vane's fate episodes are real... This is essentially a fic of an official LanVane fic, set around [Scene 3/4 of the Skill Fate Episode (You and Me, No Matter What)](https://gbf.wiki/Vane_\(SSR\)/Lore#Skill).

In the quiet of the cave, Vane’s panting seemed to echo in Lancelot’s ears. 

Without his help, without his halberd, the hydra lay still at his feet, a towering monstrosity kowtowing to Vane’s might. Vane was miraculously uninjured, perhaps a result of his training; but he was merely wielding an oversized log, their weapons safe back home at the barracks. How long had he contained such strength, able to fell such a beast with nothing but an improvised weapon, while all he could do was helplessly watch. Using his bare hands, Vane dealt the last merciful blow upon the main head’s neck, and the hydra’s hulking body faded away into dust. Only when they were finally alone did Vane let loose a sigh of relief. That one sound stirred Lancelot from his stupor, rocks crunching under his shoes as he attempted to advance.

“Vane…” 

At the sound of his voice, Vane glanced over, the lion melting away into a puppy as soon as he caught sight of him. In the grin that bloomed upon his face, Lancelot saw a glimpse of the boy in the woods: his tearful eyes, his shy little smile; and yet, when Lancelot looked again, he only saw a grown man’s broad frame.

Then, Lancelot sneezed.

“Lan-chan!” Vane cried, immediately breaking out into a run and catching him in his arms, “We need to get you warmed up real quick.”

Lancelot had to grit his teeth as he hobbled back towards the remains of their fire, Vane’s hand at his waist almost lifting him up as he helped him walk. When Vane set him down against the nearby wall, Lancelot left him a quiet thanks, the lingering warmth of his body tingling against his skin. He watched in silence as Vane busied himself with all the work he should be helping with, brushing away their hastily made ashes to make way for a new flame. 

The fire soon flickered back into life, warmth and light washing over his exhausted body, their shadows once again dancing upon the cave walls. Lancelot was still keeping his eyes on Vane when suddenly he was tugging his shirt off his shoulders.

“Vane!” Lancelot spluttered, springing upright in his seat. He swallowed down the grunt that almost left his lips, his hand bearing down against his damned leg.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” Vane replied, half naked and holding his shirt in his hand, “Just want our clothes to dry faster is all.”

Lancelot could only stare as Vane began wringing out his shirt, dumbstruck as he watched in his own sodden clothes. Bathed in the warm glow of the fire, every muscle defined by light, it was all the more apparent that Vane had grown into a splendid man. With every movement Vane made, his arms tensed with the effort, excess water splattering in front of him. Occasionally, he’d wipe his arm over his forehead, brushing away at the wet hair that clung to his skin.

“Lan-chan?” Vane said, suddenly looking up at him, “Do you want some help?”

Lancelot’s heart almost leapt out of his throat, “I…” he paused, trying desperately not to notice how his stomach was fluttering, “No. I’m fine.”

Vane merely stared at him, a pout on his lips – but he said nothing further. Lancelot let out the tiniest breath of relief. 

Lest he attract another comment, he readied his fingers before the buttons of his waistcoat. After that plunge into the river, they had barely escaped with their lives, and when they should finally have some sort of relief, his heart was growing wild in his chest. He could feel it beneath his fingertips, a pulse so loud in his ears that it almost threatened to burst out of his clothes if he made a single move.

Vane turned his way as he tugged his shirt back on, and Lancelot knew he could dally no further. He shook his head, and tried to remember all the times they had changed in front of each other in the barracks, slept together in the same bed, bathed together. Nothing had changed in all those years, and he cursed his beating heart as he bit the bullet, and finally tore open the buttons of his waistcoat. 

It was painless, save for the sudden awareness of the burning of his cheeks, and the cool air against his skin in contrast. At least, loosening the waistcoat gave him some relief, but he could still feel Vane’s gaze upon him, even as he began plucking at the buttons of his shirt. He pulled it open, the material almost translucent in his hands, and he realised how damp it must have been.

“And now…” Vane said, in a loud, deliberate voice. 

Lancelot lifted his head up, only to be greeted with the sight of Vane now tugging down his trousers. Lancelot didn’t say a word, but Vane still grinned at him in response, laughing as he kicked off his boots.

“Gotta do a through job, Lan-chan!” Vane answered, sans trousers, before he could even ask, “Well, my undies are uncomfy, but I’m sure you don’t wanna see that.”

Lancelot was horrified to realise he had to think about his response, “Just… do what’s comfortable for you. I’ll turn around,” he finally said after his silence, turning his head sharply away. 

“You sure?” Vane said. The sound of water splattered onto the ground. 

“Of course,” Lancelot said, raising his voice over the splatters, a sudden firm interest in the wall beside him.

“No peeking, ‘kay?” Vane said. Another splatter of water met his ears.

“Vane!” Lancelot cried, screwing his eyes shut as his hands turned to fists.

“I’m just kidding, Lan-chan!” Vane said, but even his usual laughter seemed hollow. 

Lancelot didn’t deign to honour him with a reply. The ache in his chest was almost suffocating him now, even though his shirt and waistcoat hung limply open and his wet skin was exposed to the cold.

“Well, uh, I’m taking them off now,” Lancelot heard Vane saying.

The snap of elastic meant that Lancelot had to immediately banish his thoughts out of his own head. Without another excuse delaying him, he shrugged his garments off his shoulders, adamant that he continued to concentrate on this wall beside him. His waistcoat was easiest to manipulate, and his shirt only slightly trickier to handle, but all that mattered was that he kept his mind clear. He concentrated as he felt the cold water trickling down his hands, watched the droplets splatter onto the ground next to him, and for a small respite, he had something to distract him.

“All dressed again,” Vane called, and Lancelot felt his gaze flick over, “Need me to turn round while you do yours?”

“That would be kind of you,” Lancelot replied, slipping back into his shirt and buttoning up. He left his waistcoat open, but in his haste to unbuckle his belt, he hissed at the sudden twang in his leg. 

“Lan-chan?!” Lancelot heard Vane cry, and knew that with one word, he would come running over.

“I’m…” Lancelot said through grit teeth, “I’m fine.”

“Lan-chan…” Vane said, “If you want me to, I can help you?”

Lancelot took a second to think, before he turned to look at him, ready to spring over in a moment’s notice. One look at the concern in his brow, the helplessness of his broad empty hands, and any resistance he had faded away into nothing. 

It took a simple nod and Vane had scrambled over, planting himself down, obediently at his side. It certainly didn’t help that Vane’s shirt was, for whatever reason, so low cut, a peek of his chest clearly visible as he leaned over to hold him. Before he had properly reasoned with himself, Lancelot found he was already breathless, “…Please.”

Vane didn’t answer immediately. He flickered back into life, bewilderment on his face as he took in Lancelot’s answer. He blinked once or twice, and then he cleared his throat.

“‘scuse me…” Vane chirped.

It was silent as Vane slipped off Lancelot’s shoes. Lancelot already found that was odd, when Vane had stopped long enough for Lancelot to peer into his face. He watched as Vane’s cheeks began to bloom in colour, his hands frozen in mid air as he stared pointedly at his belt. He wondered when he should say something, but several moments had passed without another sign of life, and it was now time for Lancelot to clear his throat.

Vane didn’t move. Lancelot could only bare looking at a few seconds more of this, before slowly, he laid his hands over his. He felt Vane jump, and hoped that a squeeze of his fists quelled whatever troubles were in his heart.

“Vane…” Lancelot said, his own voice loud in his ears, “Vane, it’s okay. It’ll just be my legs.”

“Ah! Yeah, you’re right,” Vane whispered, and if it wasn’t for how quiet the cave was, Lancelot wouldn’t have heard, “Just… your legs.”

Before he had another moment to think, Vane’s hands were in the air and then, they were clapped onto Lancelot’s waist. Lancelot gasped at the sudden movement, his face flushing when he realised how startled he had been. The band of his underwear had barely peeked out when Vane froze again.

“I’m…” Vane squeaked, “I’m embarrassed.”

“Please just keep going!” Lancelot whispered, face rapidly matching Vane’s in shade.

“I…!” Vane cried, as he squeezed his eyes shut, “Excuse me!”

Lancelot could barely contain his surprise as Vane pulled him forward by his thighs, just about managing to lift his head up before he landed squarely on his back. Still dazed with his legs in the air, Lancelot didn’t notice how quickly Vane had moved to slip off his trousers, not until he was too late to stop his wince as the material whipped against his ankle.

“I’m sorry, Lan-chan!” Vane spluttered, as he gingerly lowered Lancelot’s legs back to the ground, “Can I take a look at it?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Lancelot said, in a quiet voice, “I have a first aid kit in my bag…” 

Vane leapt right into action, departing for a brief moment and running right back with his bag as Lancelot hoisted himself up to lean back against the wall. Armed with bandages, salves and the gentlest touch, Vane took his foot into his hands, even without Lancelot having to indicate which leg needed the attention. Luckily there wasn’t an open wound, and Vane only had to ensure that his ankle remained securely under wraps. For all the time Lancelot spent watching his face, not once did Vane make eye contact. It was a different sight to see Vane so deep in concentration, and Lancelot felt that persistent tug at his heart.

“Looks like it’s just a sprained ankle,” Vane said, frowning, “I’m getting you to a doctor as soon as we get back.”

“We really were lucky today, weren’t we?” Lancelot said, as Vane wrapped things up. 

“Even have our own ice machine, huh?” Vane said, finally lifting his head to flash a grin. Even with everything that had happened, Lancelot felt himself smile back at the sight of his face.

“Glad to see you can still joke at a time like this,” Lancelot said, “Though I’m afraid it might be a little weak without my swords.” 

“We won’t be here long anyway,” Vane said, turning to look to the mouth of the cave, “Just gotta wait out the rain.”

“Right…” Lancelot said, his mind wandering as he stared at Vane’s profile, “You’ve done so much today.”

“All in a day’s work or something, right?” Vane said, shrugging.

“The ever dependable Vane,” Lancelot said, his gaze soft.

“There we go,” Vane said, ducking his head down as he let Lancelot’s foot down to the ground, “Get better soon for Lan-chan, you hear me, naughty leg!”

“Thank you, Vane…” Lancelot said, letting himself laugh for a moment, “I mean it.”

“S’alright…” Vane mumbled.

In a matter of seconds, Vane was back on his feet, turning round as he swiped up Lancelot’s discarded trousers. Lancelot giggled again as he spotted how red the tips of Vane’s ears were, but the next few moments were silent, momentarily shattered every time water splattered to the floor. Even as he traced the outline of Vane’s broad back, even as he let him help him back into his trousers, Lancelot remained quiet as he watched him work. 

“Phew! I’m tired after all that excitement,” Vane said, plopping down next to him after he was done.

“We should rest,” Lancelot said, “Hopefully we’ll wake up to clear skies.”

“Aw, but it’s been so long since we had a sleepover!” Vane said, as he began to pout.

“I don’t see how cold, hard floors are, in any way, good sleepover material,” Lancelot said, a bemused grin sneaking onto his face.

“You got a point,” Vane said, along with a quick nod of his head.

“How about this?” Lancelot said, “If we sleep now, we’ll be able to stay up as long as you like when we get back tomorrow.”

“Tch, Lan-chan!” Vane said, grinning as he nudged himself into Lancelot, “How old d’ya think I am? Bargaining with me like that.”

Lancelot only giggled in response, “Let’s get some sleep.”

“We can wait until the fire dries you up a bit more!” Vane said, his hand planting down in the space between them.

“That’s more to do with me,” Lancelot said, “You go on ahead.”

Vane pumped his hands into the air in immediate protest, “I’m full of energy!”

“Sleep!” Lancelot cried, as he pressed down against Vane’s head.

“Lan-chan!” Vane spluttered, swatting away at him.

Their hands connected for a second. Lancelot forgot to breathe for that one moment.

“Ah.”

They jolted away from each other as soon as they had made contact. Lancelot quickly ran his hand through his hair, as if that motion alone would erase the sparks from the touch of his skin. They had held hands before – Vane had a habit of getting lost after all – and Lancelot furrowed his brow as he fretted about the turbulence in his heart.

“I’m sorry, Lan-chan,” Vane mumbled.

“No, don’t be,” Lancelot said, head still turned away.

The silence was bearing down on him. They had always made those quiet moments comfortable before. It had always been enough to simply sit by his side as he read, back when they were children and time held no meaning. Nothing should have been different. Lancelot glanced at Vane first, looking small despite his bulk.

“Did you want to talk about something, Vane?” Lancelot said.

“Huh? Uh, me? No, it’s nothing,” Vane said, still hugging his knees, “I… just didn’t want to sleep. That’s all.”

“Hm,” was all Lancelot said, his stare boring into Vane’s face.

“Okay, well… when you brought up that time in the woods before,” Vane said, finally emerging from his cocoon. He seemed content to leave it at that, but when Lancelot made a sound of acknowledgement, Vane continued, “I think… it made me really happy.”

“Vane…” Lancelot whispered.

“I’ve always chased after you,” Vane said, digging his face back into his arms, “Always wanted to be with you. But even though I can protect you now, you’re injured and that doesn’t feel fair at all. But then you also say these things that make me feel like all my work to get here actually matters… I’m just… I’m just not sure where I am right now compared to you.”

For a moment, none of them spoke. 

“Aw, y’know, I’m just being silly after a long day and saying whatever, forget-”

“How long has it been since we sparred together?” Lancelot said.

“Huh?” Vane said, lifting his head.

“I don’t mean like our usual training. You’re always striving to become a ‘part of my strength’. But what about your own?” Lancelot turned to Vane, and wondered if his eyes were shining with all the excitement that threatened to bubble over, “I’d like to spar against you one day, Vane. To watch your movements, to run you to your limits, until we’ve exhausted every last drop of energy from our bodies.”

“Lan-chan…” Vane said, “Yeah! Yeah, I’d like that. But I… I want to get a little better before that day happens. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll look forward to that day then,” Lancelot said, and he nudged against Vane’s hand.

Vane stared at him momentarily, before he finally smiled, hooking his little finger with his, “Thanks for always believing in me, Lan-chan.” 

“Same to you, Vane,” Lancelot said, “I really do mean it.”

Vane was asleep faster than he had expected. It was a yawn that began with a denial, a mumble balanced with a protest, but when Vane almost fell onto his shoulder, Lancelot had finally persuaded him to sleep. He dropped off in an instant. 

Curled up behind Lancelot to block away the fire’s light, Vane’s face looked so peaceful at rest. It had been long since they had slept in the same bed, but even with his bulk, Lancelot could still see the little boy he had grown up with. He remembered the nights when they’d sneak into each other’s houses, read stories until they awoke with their faces stuck to the pages. They were inseparable when they were young, and they were inseparable now that they were reunited in rank. To think that this larger man used to cling to his shirt and follow him about like he was his shadow. He’d cry about how his sword was too heavy and how exhausted he felt after training, but despite all that, he never gave up.

Not once did he abandon him. Not when they were lost in the woods, not when faced with becoming traitors to their kingdom. 

Lancelot paused.

His heart ached in his chest. 

Vane’s lips were relaxed without his ever present smile, and his countenance without his sunshine was of an adult male in his mid twenties. It seemed unfair of him to only bring up the childhood they had shared: their memories, their adventures, their past that had paved way to make their present. Not when the breadth of his back signalled his promise, his potential, their future together.

Lancelot breathed in.

The fire’s light illuminated his features, his eyebrows, his jawline. He used to be so much smaller, so much shyer. He had clung to his shirt, and he could remember his voice through the years with that ever persistent nickname, deepening as his voice broke. 

There was a glimpse of emeralds as Vane’s eyes began to open, and Lancelot realised with a start that his hand was against his face.

“Ah!” Lancelot jolted back, the cry combining with a hiss as his leg protested.

“Lan-chan?” Vane mumbled, as he rubbed his eye, chasing the ghost of his touch, “Did somethin’ happen?”

“No,” Lancelot whispered, “I… I just brushed against you. I’m sorry.”

Vane’s face broke out into a smile, “It’s ‘kay, wasn’t fully asleep anyway,” he propped himself up onto his elbow, “How you feeling? Clothes a bit better?”

“Yeah…” Lancelot murmured, turning round, unable to hold his gaze, “The fire’s helped a lot.”

“Good, good…” Vane said. Then, after a pause, “You need to sleep too, Lan-chan… Or do you think we need to keep watch?”

“I haven’t heard anything else,” Lancelot said, straightening up, “They would have come out by now too.”

Lancelot heard Vane shuffling behind him, “I can do a quick check?” 

“No, you just woke up. I’ll…” Lancelot paused. He pursed his lips. He looked down at the bandage upon his ankle and silenced himself.

“It’s fine, Lan-chan. Better to be safe than sorry,” Vane said, and Lancelot lifted his head as he stepped out before him, “I’ll be quick. Go have a lie down and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Lancelot let his head drop, “Thank you, Vane… I’m sorry about this,” he whispered in response.

“You’ve said ‘sorry’ an awful lot already,” Vane said, a quick ruffle of Lancelot’s hair as he darted forward, “Call my name if anything happens, ‘kay?”

Lancelot was to too late to catch him, Vane already off running, his hands hanging limply in the air as his hair was left an even bigger mess, “Be safe,” Lancelot called after him.

He received a wave of his arm as an acknowledgement, and Lancelot watched until his broad back disappeared into the darkness. With nothing left to do, Lancelot obeyed Vane’s instruction, mustering all his might to ignore the pain of his leg when it protested against his movement. Apparently, it also seemed to dislike most of his usual sleeping positions, and it took a while before Lancelot could settle comfortably onto his side.

He wasn’t sure how long Vane had been gone. Without any semblance of time, he wasn’t even sure how long it had been since they had first separated from the Captain. He wished he had remembered a watch on top of all his emergency supplies. He wished a lot of things, but alas, if one could predict everything that happened, he’d have chosen not to be in this very predicament.

Over the occasional crackle of the fire, Lancelot thought he heard the outside world and the thunderous rain that blocked them from it.

Some time had passed with his eyes closed and his consciousness still buzzing, until he was able to feel his presence again. He had thought he’d hear his voice before he heard his footsteps, but it seemed he was wrong. Lancelot kept his eyes shut, his heart fluttering in his chest as he heard him stop right beside him. There was a pause, Lancelot wondering when it was safe to breathe again, when he felt the warmth of Vane’s hand against his cheek. 

It lasted only a moment, and then he was gone. Lancelot let himself breathe again, but felt his heart drop.

Not long after, the light behind his eyes faded and he was plunged into darkness. Vane must have put out the fire. Rocks crunched underneath his shoes, and then there was a moment of shuffling beside him, before all was silent and all was still.

After a pause, without opening his eyes, Lancelot called out, “Vane?”

“It’s me,” Vane replied, his voice hushed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Where are you?” Lancelot said.

“I’m here,” Vane said. Lancelot heard a flurry of movement, before something suddenly bumped into him, “Oops. That’s a bit too far back.”

Lancelot only giggled in response, his back now warm, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Vane didn’t answer until Lancelot had stopped laughing. In the silence and the darkness of the cave, Lancelot only knew he was there by the steady breathing at his back.

“…Coast’s clear. Looks like it was only that guy from before,” Vane said at last.

“That’s good…” Lancelot said, “We shouldn’t be here too long.”

“Yeah…” Vane said, “Gonna be clear skies and smooth sailing when we wake up.”

“Looking forward to a nice, warm bath, and more of your cooking when we get back,” Lancelot said, with a quick little giggle.

“I’ll make it extra special, since I lost that whole picnic hamper.”

“Can’t wait.”

With Vane beside him, Lancelot felt his body finally relax. It was certainly odd considering how fast his heart had raced moments before by the fire. Yet, in the dark, unable to see his face, it was reassuring to feel Vane’s back pressed against his, and the warmth their connection entailed. 

Just before he let himself slip away, he heard Vane’s voice.

“Good night, Lan-chan.”

“Good night, Vane.”

* * *

The second night was harder. 

Then, it was the next, and the next night after; until Lancelot stopped counting how much time seemed to have passed, lest he bring only despair. He wasn’t even sure of the time of day this far back into the cave, yet they had established a routine, checking the weather whenever they awoke and slinking back when it was still unsafe to leave. 

At least he had been somewhat prepared. Hiking was a common past time for them, and he had brought almost everything in his emergency kit: pocketknife, bandages, all the necessities they needed to survive. That didn’t make the wait any easier however. His rations tasted nothing like Vane’s cooking, some of the bandages hadn’t survived the fall into the river, and it was not like a pocketknife could do much without any game to hunt. Sometimes, he’d imagine a day of relaxation at home, reading a book in a warm bath, polishing his weapon collection – only to awaken on the cold, hard ground of a cave.

It was only the bright spots that salvaged his mood, moments when they were awake and the fire was lit, reminding him that it was merely a matter of waiting. He had survived worse things before, bruised and battered, and only holding out on a hope that Vane was safe.

Lancelot looked up. Illuminated by the light of the fire, Vane’s blond hair was even brighter than usual. They caught each other’s eyes and Vane flashed him a wide grin; but even though Lancelot mirrored his motion, his smile soon faded away when Vane turned back to the fire.

He knew he was hungry. If his hollow stomach was beginning to gnaw away at his mind, then Vane, with his perpetual hunger, was barely crawling by on half a ration. He wanted to be home, eating his cooking, gorging himself on sweets, like the freshly baked apple pie they had that day. He wanted to taste that flaky, buttery crust again. It would melt in his mouth, still warm from the oven, a welcoming prelude before the apple filling would flood his taste buds with flavour: tart yet sweet, with a hint of cinnamon. 

Lancelot pinched himself. He was salivating, and his stomach mourned the absence of the promised goods, groaning with a vengeance. There were only rocks here, and their rapidly diminishing stock of rations, shared between two. Some tea would have been nice – though the fall in the river would have ruined the leaves. Lancelot shook his head.

“Lan-chan…”

Vane was staring at him, but all Lancelot could notice was how inviting his neck looked, the call of his collar bone and the peek of his chest from his low cut top. Lancelot squeezed shut his eyes. He was going insane if he was beginning to salivate at the sight of him.

“Lan-chan?”

“Vane,” Lancelot whispered, turning his head away, “Not so close.”

“Ah, sorry,” Vane stammered, “I must smell pretty bad, huh?”

“No,” Lancelot mumbled, his fingernails biting into his arm, “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

His mind was truly slipping. He was sure he held it together longer in the dungeons with Isabella.

He glanced over, and the glimpse of Vane’s downcast face stung. It didn’t last long however, as Vane quickly fixed his smile upon noticing his gaze. Lancelot only turned down his head. The thought of Vane had always cheered him up in the dungeons, but having him here with him was both a blessing and a curse. Vane shouldn’t have to suffer any more than he already has.

“Lan-chan… How’s the leg?” Vane would ask every time they woke up.

“I’m fine,” Lancelot said, “Don’t worry about me.”

“But-”

“I’m fine,” Lancelot repeated, even though he had to look away from the sight of Vane’s crestfallen face.

If it weren’t for their diminishing supplies, Lancelot would have thought they were in a continuous dream. Time was certainly passing, yet waiting kept it at a crawl. They spent most of it asleep, not wishing to waste any more energy than was necessary. Yet the rain continued, and continued, and continued.

Lancelot swallowed. His parched throat thanked him for the brief relief.

Vane had begun pacing about. Both of them were active people, but in this cage, they barely had room to stretch. Watching him only made Lancelot wish to join him, but he could do nothing, his bandages replacements for those dreaded shackles.

“Vane…” Lancelot called out after a moment of silent watching, “Can you give me some privacy for a moment please?”

Vane stopped in his tracks, the cogs in his head turning as his eyes widened, until he was suddenly abloom in red.

“Oh! Uh, I’ll… go over there for a min’ then,” Vane said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Call my name if anything happens, ‘kay?”

“Thanks,” Lancelot said, his eyes on Vane as he walked away. He observed the width of his back, the lines of his muscles, and then Lancelot pulled his gaze away.

He breathed. He thought – or tried to. He didn’t really have a plan. 

His mind had already been exhausted of solutions long ago. They at least had enough rations to last a while. Whether his heart could cope seeing more of the usually voracious Vane limiting his own appetite was another matter entirely. For all the items in his bag, nothing could defend them from heading out into torrential rain; and yet, the only other option was to slowly starve themselves when his supplies inevitably ran out. 

Lancelot pursed his lips. He was heading down that path again: a path without an end.

He remembered Siegfried. His mentor was used to the wilderness – forced to, in fact – and he searched for a memory that could aid him in this plight. He remembered sunny days, of younger years bickering with Percival for Siegfried’s attention, and Siegfried’s smile as he subdued the rowdy rivals with a single word.

Lancelot breathed. He filled his lungs, and let the breath pass through his lips. He rested his hand on his diaphragm, closed his eyes, concentrated only on his breath. 

The cave was silent. They hadn’t been disturbed since the day Vane had defeated the hydra. It was just them – him and Vane. 

Lancelot pursed his lips. He stopped himself. He thought of the cave: the crackle of the fire, the roar of the rain. They were alone: isolated, trapped. 

Lancelot snapped open his eyes. 

He was alone.

“Vane…” no answer, “Vane!”

“Lan-chan!” came his voice, and Lancelot finally let himself breathe, “Coming!”

Only when he was able to see Vane’s face did Lancelot relax. Vane knelt before him, eyebrows furrowed as he clasped Lancelot’s shoulders.

“Feeling any better?” Vane said.

“Somewhat, thank you,” Lancelot answered, “Were you checking the rain outside?”

“Yeah… Still not looking good…” Vane said, collapsing down next to him against the wall, “Wonder when we can get outta here…”

Lancelot was quiet.

“Lan-chan?”

“I’m alright…” Lancelot murmured, “I’m just… thinking…”

“Here,” Vane said softly, patting his shoulder, “Lean on me, Lan-chan.”

Lancelot looked into his face, and then he smiled, “…Thank you, Vane,” Lancelot said, obeying his instruction and leaning over, “I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Vane said, shuffling over so that they were closer.

For a moment, they were still. Every breath that Vane took made his shoulder rise and fall, but it was that very movement that reminded Lancelot that they were both still here, both still alive. They had been through so much together, back to back, side by side. 

“It’s warm…” Lancelot whispered, his eyelids dropping.

“Kinda ran back here when I heard you,” Vane said, giggling and causing a little rumble against Lancelot’s head, “Sorry if I’m a little sweaty.”

“Not at all,” Lancelot said, alongside an accompanying shake of his head.

“Won’t be so cold if we huddled together like when we were kids, huh?”

Lancelot paused.

“Except…” Lancelot said, opening his eyes to see once more, “We’re not children any more.”

“Lan-chan?”

“No…” Lancelot said, pushing himself up and away from Vane, “I shouldn’t be a burden like this…”

“Lan-chan…” Vane said. Without even looking at him, he could imagine the hurt on his face.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Lancelot said, his voice quiet.

“Lan-chan, it’s okay, you don’t need to pretend. It’s only me.”

It took a moment, but Lancelot finally lifted his gaze to meet him, “Vane…”

“I’ll always take care of you,” Vane said, “You’ve always taken care of me.”

Lancelot shook his head, “You don’t owe me anything, Vane.”

“It’s not that,” Vane said immediately, “I like doing things for you. Because it’s you, Lancelot.”

Lancelot breathed in. 

“You’ve helped me so much, Vane,” Lancelot whispered, “Sometimes I fear I take you for granted.”

“Lan-chan?”

“I’m your Captain. Yet here I am, wounded and a liability,” Lancelot continued, “I’m the one who should be protecting you.”

Vane was suddenly before him, his face a plea.

“But before being my Captain, before the king, before the knights, you’re still Lan-chan to me,” Vane said, and every word bit into him, “You’re everything I look up to. If you’re wounded, let me be your crutch. I’m your Vice Captain. I’m here to support you.”

They stared at each other, silent, locked in an impasse. 

“Vane-”

“Lan-chan-”

They stopped. 

Lancelot sighed, “None of this is getting us out of here faster…”

“We should sleep,” Vane murmured.

“You’re right…” Lancelot said. 

With heavy hearts, they laid down to sleep. Lancelot had closed his eyes for a while, expecting Vane to put out the fire, but moments had passed and nothing had happened. He could feel him at his back, his breath stabilising him as usual, but this was diverting from the routine they had established.

“Vane?” Lancelot called.

“Yeah, Lan-chan?” 

Lancelot paused. He took a breath, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” Lancelot heard him say, “What for?”

“I… I didn’t mean to get so heated,” Lancelot continued, the words flooding out of him as he gazed at the floor, “You’ve helped me more than you ever give yourself credit for. I… I don’t know if I could ever express how thankful I am that you’re here.”

“Lan-chan…” Vane whispered, and then he laughed, sending waves of relief down Lancelot’s spine, “Were you worried I was mad?”

“Well… I… I suppose I was,” Lancelot said, before he paused, “Did we just have a fight?”

“Nah, I could never get mad at you, y’know?” Vane said. There was a shuffling of movement, and Lancelot’s back was suddenly cold.

“And that’s precisely why…” Lancelot rolled onto his back so he could look over, only to quieten as he came face to face with Vane. He realised he had never appreciated just how much his eyes shone like emeralds. They were quiet for a moment, until Lancelot ended in a whisper, “I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness, Vane.”

“Maybe I learned kindness from you, Lan-chan,” Vane said.

For a while, Lancelot tried to say something back, but nothing came out of his mouth. His eyes remained on his smile, his mouth hanging open, and he defaulted to what he knew best when it came to him. 

He crammed every emotion into one word, one name, until it came out in a breathless whisper, “Vane.”

“Please talk to me, Lan-chan,” Vane continued, “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“Vane…”

“I want to do everything I can to make this easier for you.”

Lancelot didn’t answer, his head bowing down.

“How’s the leg?” Vane said.

“It’s…” Lancelot stopped himself and sighed, “It hurts if I move too much, but it’s still here, at least.”

Vane smiled in response and gave Lancelot’s arm a hearty pat, “Just a bit longer…”

“Yeah…”

“Let’s sleep and see how things are tomorrow,” Vane said, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into his arm.

“Thank you, Vane,” Lancelot said, “I…”

His last syllable lingered in the air as he looked up at Vane’s face.

“I…” Something was stuck on his tongue, something that swelled in his heart, a flood that clogged in his throat, and before Lancelot knew it, he had reached forward and grabbed a hold of Vane’s shirt.

He rolled onto his bad leg, and a hiss escaped his mouth before he could suppress it, his fingers digging down as he collapsed into Vane’s arms. 

He took a deep breath. 

He took several more that caught in his throat. 

The pain of his ankle shot through his limbs, and Lancelot winced as he clung to Vane’s back. He could hear his voice, but Lancelot didn’t – couldn’t – move. Rolling any further only buried his face against Vane’s chest, and there he stayed.

Even as Lancelot pulled and tugged at his shirt, his nails raking down the length of his back, Vane stayed still. He only brought him closer, his arms closing round his back, and Lancelot knew he had fallen even deeper. Everything was dark, and yet his scent, his warmth encompassed his entire being, flooding him until it numbed the pain in his leg.

It was like a blanket had covered him, and he was no longer in this dark and damp cave, isolated from the world. He was at home, in bed, with Vane, reading books until the words blurred and their eyes fell shut of their own accord. It was every moment he spent with him, under the stars, walking through the dead of night baring all their secrets, and knowing that no matter where he was, if he was with Vane, he’d return home, safe and sound.

Lancelot breathed in. 

He saw the night sky, a blanket of perpetual darkness pierced by starlight, and then he saw Vane, a smile of sunshine, a constant in all of these years.

After an eternity, Lancelot rolled over, right onto his back. His leg stopped screaming at him, but then he realised, his mind still numb, that his arm was still under his weight. 

He turned his head, and was met with emerald eyes.

“Feeling any better?” Vane said.

“Yes, thank you,” Lancelot replied in what was left of his voice.

“Then, that’s all that matters,” Vane said.

For the brief moment it took for Vane to put out the fire for the night, Lancelot felt empty without him by his side. He expected him to assume his usual position when he returned, back to back, but he was surprised when Vane settled down on his opposite side, on his good leg. He took him into his arms and let him bury his face against his chest, and it was here that Lancelot stayed.

Vane used to be the one who slept in his arms, tired from reading. He used to be so much smaller. He used to be so much shyer. He used to cry the moment something went wrong. 

They were no longer the children lost in the woods.

Lancelot squeezed him tight, and felt him squeeze back. He was so much bigger than him now, so much braver. Lancelot’s hand bunched into a fist, and Vane’s shirt bunched into his hand. 

He closed his eyes, and let himself fall.

“Good night, Lan-chan.”

“Good night, Vane.”

* * *

He didn’t know what day it was. 

All he knew was that Vane’s shoulder was his rock, his pillar – and he was always so warm. Under the lull of Vane’s steady breathing, Lancelot listened to the drone of the rain outside and wondered how much longer they had to wait. 

He remembered he had only been leaning against him, Vane sat still as his support, and then he blinked and registered the warmth that enveloped him. They were sat in front of the fire, but that wasn’t it. Lancelot inhaled, a shuddering breath between his teeth, as he realised where he was: curled up against Vane’s neck, wrapped in his arms.

“Vane…” Lancelot forced out of his lips.

“Lan-chan?” the warmth spoke.

“Why? Why am I here?” Lancelot said, his voice in tatters of a whisper.

“Oh,” the warmth continued, “You just took a nap is all.”

“But what about you?”

“I’m good, not tired yet,” Lancelot heard his voice say, and if he closed his eyes again, he really would have slept to the rumble of his words, “If you’re cold, I can run around a bit more and warm you up again?”

Lancelot paused, and finally, he tore himself away from the warmth, and pushed himself up to peer at his face, “So… That’s why I’m here.”

“It’s okay, Lan-chan,” Vane said, “Gets rid of my own jitters.”

“Vane…” Lancelot said, his face dropping, until Vane started poking his cheek, “Vane, please… Has the rain stopped?” 

“Not yet, but soon, I’m sure of it,” Vane said, offering him a smile.

“Do you think it’ll ever stop?”

There was a flicker of a frown; but Lancelot, who had spent his life watching Vane, caught it. He watched as Vane stared past the glow of the fire and into the darkness of the cave, and finally said, “…It has to.”

“But what if it’ll never stop? What if our supplies run out? What if you-”

“Lancelot.”

He immediately stopped.

“It’ll be okay,” Vane said, turning to him – his face was so close, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Lancelot breathed in, “Vane…”

He remembered their talk from a vague few days ago – or was it hours, he couldn’t remember. They had slept, and slept, and it seemed there was nothing to do but wait until time had no more meaning. 

For all the training in the world, he couldn’t fight nature.

“It won’t be okay if I lose you.”

He knocked against his hand, and felt Vane’s hand twitch; a reflex that stopped when Lancelot closed his fingers around his. 

He could feel his heart thud in his chest. Vane threaded his fingers through his.

They stayed silent. Without another word, Lancelot settled into Vane’s neck. It wasn’t hard in their original position. He felt him swallow. He felt his warmth. He felt his heartbeat. His heart was racing, just like his, and Lancelot squeezed his hand tight. Vane responded, a squeeze back, his hand bigger, his grip tighter. Lancelot pulled back, his breath in his throat, and waited until Vane was looking at him.

“Vane…” Lancelot swallowed thickly, “Before I… If I…”

“Don’t talk like this, Lancelot!”

“I love you.”

He felt Vane’s hand freeze, the breadth of his hand locked in place over his. They had known each other their whole lives, and Lancelot knew every meaning of every crease in his face like they were written out in script. 

Vane screwed his eyes shut. 

“I won’t take advantage of you,” Vane said, frowning when he was ready to look upon him again. His face was set, and all Lancelot could do was laugh at himself.

“You really had no idea?” Lancelot said.

Vane was always as easy to read as the skies themselves. Lancelot watched as everything displayed across his face, eyes shining with the initial realisation, and clouding over as he began to pierce together his thoughts. He wanted to say so many words that they clamoured before his tongue, threatened to spill out all at once, and yet he only ended up with two.

“I’m sorry,” Lancelot whispered.

“No,” Vane said, and his voice never suited being quiet, “I never said anything either… I never thought I was…”

“It’s now or never, isn’t it…?” Lancelot said, bitterness in his smile.

“Don’t talk like that, Lan-chan,” Vane said, his eyebrows furrowing, “We’ll make it through this, and I’ll tell you everything back home.”

“Vane…”

They fell silent. 

Words were nothing but exerted effort when they could read each other’s faces so easily. Vane had already seen through every brave face he had put up – what was one more for him to tear down like paper. It was already over. Every facade, every pretence, every semblance he had of being strong crumbled in the face of the truth. Vane had always called him his hero, but it was Vane who had saved him time and time again. 

With nothing left and only Vane to lose, all he wanted to do was fall. Excitement surged through his fingertips as he hung on the precipice of his decision, and now, instead of the danger that awaited in that gaping maw of uncertainty, Vane was there, with a promise to catch him in his arms.

He pulled Vane’s hand forward, and cradled it against his cheek.

“Please.”

He closed his eyes, and let himself be carried away in the palm of Vane’s hand.

There was nothing like the warmth he felt, even when plunged into darkness, of knowing that Vane was still there with him. Sat in his lap, his hand circled round the small of his back, Lancelot shuddered as his breath tickled his chest. 

“Lower,” Lancelot said.

Vane obeyed, his hand tracing his jawline to settle at his breast.

“Lower…” Lancelot said.

Vane continued, his hand following the guidance of Lancelot’s muscles, and stopped just above his belt.

“Lower…” Lancelot’s voice was merely a whisper.

His immediate moan was so loud in his ears that Lancelot clapped a hand over himself. Vane paused, his hand barely lifting an inch away, but Lancelot grabbed hold of him and pulled him back.

“Please, Vane,” Lancelot never knew his voice could get so desperate, and yet, here he was. He watched Vane flick his gaze away and back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, the redness of his face. 

He wasn’t looking at him when he returned his hand against Lancelot’s body. All he did was cup his hand over Vane’s, and that was enough for him to jump. Slowly, as Lancelot grasped his fingers tight, Vane’s gaze returned back to him: a glance back, a slight turn, and then a cautious glimpse. When Vane was finally looking at him, Lancelot smiled, and threaded his fingers through his. 

Vane’s first touch was like a twitch. When Lancelot let go of his hand, Vane’s fingers didn’t know what to do or where to go. He had barely grazed over the fly of his trousers before he had immediately flinched back. Lancelot didn’t hide his face, not when it was so important for Vane to be able to read him now, his lips parting as he touched Vane’s emblazoned cheeks. 

“Vane…” Lancelot whispered, and he swore Vane went several shades deeper.

He almost looked away again when he pressed his hand against Lancelot’s crotch, but he remained entranced as Lancelot heaved a sigh out of his lungs, melting into his touch. Vane stayed there, unmoving, until Lancelot touched his hand and he jolted back into life, his hand over his to guide him along. The breadth of Vane’s hand only made Lancelot sigh more, every moan coaxed out of his mouth.

“…Like that?” Vane whispered.

“Like that…” Lancelot mumbled back.

“Do you… want me to keep going?” Vane said.

Lancelot’s first response was to shut his eyes, the second a quick little nod, “Wish this was better circumstances…”

“Huh?”

“This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Lancelot said, a smirk on his lips.

“Lan-chan…” Vane said, his hand stilling, “I can stop.”

Lancelot opened his eyes without a word. He looked upon Vane’s face, his jawline set, his eyebrows furrowed, and Lancelot breathed, “Don’t.”

“Then… Can I…?” Vane said, eyes bright as he leant forward.

“Vane?”

“I… I want you to feel better…” Vane mumbled, and then he took a deep breath and looked right up at him. The reds of his cheeks only highlighted just how wonderfully green his eyes were, “Excuse me!”

Lancelot gasped as Vane pulled him in, straddling his legs across his lap. They were much too wide apart, an obvious attempt to avoid agitating his ankle, and Lancelot let his arms fall onto Vane’s shoulders and held onto him tight. His subsequent jolt meant his first kiss barely grazed his skin: a fluttering touch that tickled his neck and prompted a quick giggle out of Lancelot’s lips. Vane responded with a whine, the kind he always did whenever Lancelot teased him, and Lancelot had to steady himself as he realised this was really him atop Vane’s lap. 

Vane came back in bolder, his tongue hot and wet against his neck, and Lancelot sighed against his touch, his hands against his back. His affection was relentless as soon as he started, and Lancelot had to wonder if this was the same man who had been too overwhelmed by his blush to move. He kept at his advance, licks turning into nibbles and bites, like a starved wolf finally able to feast. Lancelot whimpered as Vane began leaning forward, Vane’s weight against him almost too much without the wall behind him.

“Vane…” Lancelot gasped, pulling at Vane’s shirt to get a hold on something.

Vane swallowed, breathless in his haste to reply back, “Lan-chan.” 

“Vane,” Lancelot whined, a shake of his head letting his hair loose, “Let me look at you.”

Vane froze, arms around him tight, just as Lancelot was on the brink of toppling backwards. His eyes were so wide that Lancelot had to laugh despite his breathlessness.

“Vane…” Lancelot said, his gaze softening, “You’ve truly grown into a splendid man, haven’t you?”

“Lan-chan…!” Vane gasped, eyes sparkling bright.

“Vane?!” Lancelot spluttered, catching hold of Vane’s shirt as he was suddenly lifted up like he weighed nothing. He barely managed to duck in time as the cave ceiling grazed his head.

“I don’t wanna hurt your leg,” Vane said, as if it was obvious, “Stay still for me, ‘kay?”

Lancelot was speechless. Then, he realised he should close his open mouth, and was left to only laugh at himself, “Of course…”

Vane flashed him a grin, “There’s a good boy.”

Lancelot didn’t answer, his eyebrows rising as a smirk curled the edge of his lips. Vane propped him up against the wall, checking for a moment if his position was comfortable for him, a moment when his voice was soft, and Lancelot’s heart fluttered.

“May I have my reward now?” Lancelot said, grabbing hold of his shirt as he pulled back. When Vane only stared at him, Lancelot continued, “For being a good boy?”

“Hmm,” Vane said for a long while, his face scrunching up, his bottom lip protruding out; until he had stalled long enough and said, “What d’ya want?”

Lancelot’s response was instant, “I’d like you please,” Lancelot whispered, as he let go of Vane’s shirt, and traced his hand down his biceps.

A sloppy grin emerged upon Vane’s face, his cheeks tinged with red, “Gotcha.”

Dutifully, Vane reassumed his place against Lancelot’s neck, kneeling between his legs this time, hands holding his hips. Lancelot sighed, his chest rising and falling with his quickening breath, idly wondering about Vane’s gentle pace – when he moaned out loud as Vane ran his hands down his chest. Vane was still continuing his kisses as if nothing had happened, when he began to pluck away at his buttons, spreading his shirt open to make way for his mouth, a trail of kisses against every exposed part of his skin. From his neck, to his collar bone, to his chest, all the way down the sleek line of his abs, Vane didn’t leave an inch untouched. With his mouth occupied, he’d explore elsewhere with his hands, kneading against his nipples until they were erect, fingertips defining the line of his muscles, leaving Lancelot a panting, heaving mess. Lancelot had struggled so much with getting off his shirt in front of him some time ago, and yet Vane had made short work of him in moments.

“Vane…” Lancelot whined, holding his leg down as he tried to keep himself still.

He so desperately wanted to move along with the pace of Vane’s kisses, hold him in his arms as he tasted his skin; and in having to fight against his natural urges, Lancelot heaved a heavy sigh out of his lungs. Every touch of Vane’s warm mouth, every sigh of his breath against his wet skin made Lancelot moan, his head digging against the wall as he tried to concentrate on keeping his injured leg still. It still didn’t keep back his jolt when Vane pressed his thumb into the crease where his groin met his thigh.

After the very last button, with his shirt fully open, Vane paused and pulled back. Lancelot had to lift his head to meet Vane’s gaze, mind still a muddle as he stared back, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he vainly tried to calm his breathing. It was Lancelot who moved first, forcing his exhausted body to make a simple nod, and Vane swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he finally allowed himself to unbuckle Lancelot’s belt. The care he took to avoid agitating his leg only made Lancelot yearn, impatience and anticipation combining into a whine as he watched Vane part open his fly.

When his erection was finally free, the relief almost flooded his senses as he let out a moan, and Lancelot forced himself to breathe as he watched Vane’s face. He looked stunned after he had pulled down his underwear, his eyes fixed on Lancelot’s cock, and his brief touch to ascertain its existence only made Lancelot moan and shiver in his wait. For a moment, his gaze flicked up as he tried to connect the reaction to his touch, their eyes meeting as two reddened faces tried to communicate without words. 

“Vane… I need you…” Lancelot whined, and he watched as Vane gulped. 

The ensuing gasp out of Lancelot’s mouth was so sharp that the jerk of his head hit against the wall, and he groaned as Vane wrapped his lips around his cock and took him deep into his mouth. He was warm and wet and felt much too good for the state he was in, and Lancelot hissed through his teeth as he attempted to further hold open his legs, only to remember his injury. Every wave of pleasure made him feel delirious, and he was sure that he’d soon wake up, but as Lancelot reached out to weave his fingers through that golden crown of hair, Vane looked up.

“Vane…” his name was ethereal once out of his lips; but it really was his mouth around his swollen cock, he really was staring right into emerald eyes, and Lancelot really had to believe that it was Vane between his legs.

Vane felt wonderful, like a warmth had taken hold of his exhausted muscles, and enveloped his entire mind. Every sigh and every moan caused by his cock between Vane’s lips pushed every worry, every thought out of his head, until all Lancelot could do was focus on remembering how to breathe. His hand cradled the back of Vane’s head, every bob guided by his hold. Lancelot wasn’t sure what he was saying at this point, Vane’s name morphing into incoherent moans and sighs as he held his leg in place, and the material of his trousers twisted in his palm.

Vane only grew braver with every one of Lancelot’s moans. He swallowed up his tip, his shaft, and with a bit of manoeuvring, Vane kissed against his balls, taking in every part of his cock into his mouth, until Lancelot began to tremble, his moans growing louder and louder in the silence of the cave. 

“Vane…” Lancelot whispered, his fingers twisting in his hair, “Vane… I’m close…”

He could feel himself teeter on the edge, and yet, Vane persisted with his tongue and his lips, wave after wave of pleasure making Lancelot gasp and pant, his fingers curling inwards against Vane’s scalp.

“Please…” Lancelot whined, pulling against Vane’s hair.

Vane wasn’t pulling back. He wasn’t pulling back.

“Vane, please…” Lancelot gasped, and he pulled, but Vane stayed firm, his cock deep in his warm, wet mouth.

Vane merely glanced up, and that was it. Lancelot could barely recognise his own voice in his ears as he released inside Vane’s mouth. He pushed into the ground against his leg, a scream of Vane’s name as Vane stayed still, swallowing, drinking every drop of his cum, his fingers dug into Lancelot’s thighs. Lancelot could hear himself panting when he realised where he was again, barely registering as Vane pulled back and quietly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Inches apart and catching their breaths, they stared at one another, quiet and alone in the cave.

“You eat the ration today, Lan-chan,” Vane said at last.

“Don’t be silly, that was in no way a meal,” came Lancelot’s immediate retort.

“Just eat it, okay!” Vane spluttered, his cheeks growing increasingly red behind his hand.

“Vane,” Lancelot said firmly, “I can be stubborn too.”

They stared each down, neither of them yielding. It was Vane who moved first, wilting as he turned sharply away.

“Hm, well, I’m… just… I’m just gonna be over there,” Vane said, pointing vaguely into the distance, “Call my name if you need me.”

“Vane,” Lancelot called, and Vane stopped in his tracks, “At least… Let me watch…”

“Lan-chan…” Vane said. The tips of his ears were bright red.

“Please.”

Without another word, Vane spun on his heel and planted himself down opposite him. He stayed still for a while, his lips pursed, every line on his face screaming in concentration. When he finally looked up at Lancelot, his face was almost entirely bathed in red.

“Can I… Can I look at you?” Vane said, soft as a whisper.

“By all means,” Lancelot said, not having made any effort to readjust his open shirt and fly. 

He immediately let slip a whine as Vane unzipped his own trousers. Vane never met his gaze as he pulled his erection out into the open, but Lancelot’s attention was far too focused elsewhere for it to matter. His chest rose and fell with the effort of his breath, and after the first whimper, Vane lifted his shirt up and held it between his teeth. Everything about this sight was picturesque: the glimpse of his abs, to his lowered gaze as he concentrated on easing his erection into his hand – and yet, Lancelot wanted more.

“Vane…” Lancelot whispered.

Vane jumped, his shirt dropping out of his mouth as he snapped his gaze up at Lancelot, “H-Huh?”

“I thought you wanted to look at me?” Lancelot said, a tease of a smirk making its way onto his lips.

Vane opened his mouth but nothing came out, and so he sat there, silently opening and closing his lips, “Ah, um…” Vane managed at last, “It’s… It’s… more embarrassing than I thought…”

Lancelot only giggled, “Could you come closer for me?”

“But I’m…” Vane stammered, his hand closing over his cock.

“I want to touch you too,” Lancelot said, his voice a crisp whisper in the silence of the cave. 

“Lan… chan…”

Though Vane immediately scrambled up to his feet, he still made to cover himself in an attempt at modesty. It didn’t matter to Lancelot, who held out his arms and let Vane hug him tight. 

“Don’t be nervous…” Lancelot said, after their hug had lasted quite a while, “Did you forget what you just did for me?”

“That was… That was different,” Vane said, his face hidden away from him.

“How so?” Lancelot immediately interjected.

“Um, well… That… I mean…” Vane mumbled, his grip tightening against Lancelot’s back.

At this, Lancelot could only giggle, “Vane…” Lancelot said, his voice a breathless whisper as he leaned into his warmth, “I’m glad you’re the one… here with me.”

Lancelot settled against his neck as Vane resumed his hand around his own cock, his lips brushing against his skin. Vane’s moan only encouraged him, his hand slipping under his shirt and following the line of his muscles up his abs, until he settled at his chest. He thumbed and pinched at his nipples, allowed his hands to finally explore the bounty of his broad body, every vibration of his sighs making Vane sink further and further into him. He was growing lost in Vane’s voice, when he trailed his touch further and further down, until he had joined Vane’s hand around his cock.

“Lan-chan?!” Vane spluttered with a jolt.

“Are you tired?” Lancelot said, “Do you want me to try for a little while?”

Vane didn’t answer immediately, unable to meet Lancelot’s gaze as his cheeks blazed red. Lancelot reached out to touch his cheek, holding the heat underneath his fingertips, and that was when Vane managed a quiet nod. Vane moved away his hand, and Lancelot swallowed as his fingers grazed against the head of Vane’s cock. 

Lancelot didn’t let Vane’s squeak go unnoticed, giggling as he looked up into his face, his cock thick and solid and warm in his hand. He watched every reaction enraptured, as Vane breathed deeply when his thumb rubbed against his frenulum, as Vane whimpered when he stroked a finger up his length.

Taking a deep breath, Lancelot licked the tips of his fingers. It wasn’t the best substitute for lubrication, but they had been rationing their food and water in a cave, so this would have to do. It seemed, on second thought, that Lancelot clearly hadn’t prepared enough with his emergency kit.

“Here?” Lancelot said, stroking over the head of his cock as he awaited his instructions.

“Right… here,” Vane said in a tiny voice, as he repositioned Lancelot’s hand.

“Okay…” Lancelot whispered, settling into the crook of Vane’s neck as he began the first few pumps of his cock.

Lancelot listened to his heavy breathing, his sighs and his moans as he leaned against his chest. It was his whimpers that interested him most of all, the ones that concealed the syllables of his nickname that he so loved to use.

“Vane…” Lancelot whispered, “You don’t have to hide your voice.”

“But…” Vane whimpered, “I’m…”

“Please,” Lancelot whispered, “I want to hear you.”

“Lan… chan…” Vane whimpered, and with one last sigh, his lips were finally loose, the dam breaking open a flood. Every time his name slipped out, he grew faster and faster, following Lancelot’s rhythm as he began to pick up his pace, until his nickname was merely a gasp, “Lan-chan…!”

Lancelot giggled as Vane grasped onto him, his hand almost completely over his. Lancelot didn’t fight against him, allowing Vane to direct the speed of his strokes, letting himself be carried away by his touch. He was beginning to shiver now, and Lancelot wished he could see his face.

“Lan-chan, Lan-chan, Lan-chan…” Vane gasped, one after another, until Lancelot barely recognised his words. 

For a moment, he thought he could pull back to peek, intrigued by the look of his face when he was so often smiling – but Vane had slammed his head forward before he even had the chance. Lancelot’s heart almost leapt out of his throat, their foreheads now plastered together, his mind racing as he listened to Vane’s moaning up close. 

“Vane…” Lancelot whispered, breathing deeply as he tried to concentrate, “Vane…”

Vane closed his hand over Lancelot’s, but if Vane didn’t pull back his mouth, then Lancelot would certainly not pull back his hand. They stared at one another, inches apart, felt Vane tilt his head, his breath against his cheek, the brush of his lips against his.

“Vane… I…” 

“Lan-chan!”

Lancelot felt Vane’s gasp against his lips, warmth spilling over his fingers. Vane squeezed Lancelot tight into his chest, burying his face against his hair, and Lancelot breathed in as his leg throbbed in protest. He had to bear it, he had to bear it for Vane; as Vane squeezed against his hand, as Vane caught his breath, Lancelot noticed all the things he never saw until he was this close. For a second, when Vane lifted his head, they caught each other’s gaze; and then he noticed Lancelot’s hand and his eyes shot wide open.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry-”

He was silenced as soon as Lancelot had pulled Vane’s hand to his lips, his eyes widening as Lancelot slowly took his fingers into his mouth. He made sure Vane was watching as he swirled his tongue against his fingertip, and the subsequent fluttering kisses against his skin thereafter, right down to the kiss against his palm.

For a moment after he had finished licking him clean, they stayed silent, nothing but their heavy breaths in the silence of the cave. His sharp taste lingered on his tongue, his scent intoxicating against his own skin.

“Thank you…” Lancelot said, breathless, “for the meal, Vane.”

“That…” Vane gasped, “That wasn’t a…!”

“It appears we both save rations this way,” Lancelot said.

His smile gave way to a smirk, and then his laughter shortly followed, and soon, Vane’s pout had also been swept away by his very own giggling. To hear the happiness in Vane’s voice only prompted Lancelot to continue, until he was unable to ascertain why he had even begun laughing in the first place and was forced to stop only when he was left without his voice, gasping and wheezing. Defeated by the exhaustion in his own body, Lancelot slumped against the wall, his head growing light. He made a haphazard grasp in Vane’s direction, and just as he expected, Vane caught his hand in his.

“I really am glad you’re here…” Lancelot whispered.

“Lan-chan… I…” 

Lancelot put a finger to his own lips, “Conserve your energy,” Lancelot said, “We’ll talk back home. Remember?”

Vane was silent for a moment, even after Lancelot had moved his finger away, “…Yeah…” 

There was a pause. 

Lancelot pursed his lips, whetted them, but neither of them said anything further. He was still dishevelled, his shirt and waistcoat askew, left unable to do anything beside breathe heavily against the wall. At least, the warmth of his hand was comforting.

Vane was the one to open his mouth first, but not a single sound came out of him. Lancelot watched his internal distress, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Um… Lan-chan… So… Can I…” Vane stared at him, his face growing redder with each passing moment, but Lancelot only cocked his head to the side, “…kiss…”

Lancelot didn’t waste another second, yanking him forward by their connected hands, and toppling Vane right over him. It was graceless and their noses smacked into each other, and they laughed because of their combined clumsiness; until his warmth made his laughter melt into quiet, steady breaths, and before he had even registered the thought, his lips had met his.

They were sticky and sweaty and really needed a bath, and yet Lancelot didn’t want to stop. Every pause for air grew smaller and smaller, their need for oxygen less important than the need to stay together. With a quiet moan, they were forced to surface, but Vane still leaned forward to nibble at Lancelot’s neck, and Lancelot, in turn, pulled at his shirt.

“We need to sleep,” Lancelot moaned, even as he tilted his head back. 

“Yeah…” Vane whispered, his breath tickling Lancelot’s neck.

With one last nuzzle against him, Vane pulled back, and they stared at one another, eyes flicking to each other’s lips and back, until they burst out into a fresh round of giggles. His stomach full of cheer, they laid down together, as close as humanly possible without agitating his ankle. Even then, Lancelot had to bite his lip as he fought the urge to have his hands back on Vane.

“How’s the leg?” Vane asked, his hand warm against his thigh.

“I’ll manage,” Lancelot said, an ever persistent smile on his face.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Vane said, his face serious for a moment.

“Maybe… but…” Lancelot mumbled, all too preoccupied in weaving his fingers through Vane’s hair and doing nothing to stop himself, “enthusiasm is good…”

Vane ducked his head down, but Lancelot still caught his grin, “I… I can’t really believe this is happening…”

“This warmth is real…” Lancelot whispered, holding onto him, tracing his fingers along his jawline, memorising the shape of his face.

“I want to say so much to you, Lan-chan…” Vane said, brushing his hand over Lancelot’s cheek, “We’ll always make it, right?” 

Lancelot remained silent, taking in the sight of something he had never seen so close before. If this sight was the last thing he’d ever see, his eyes like sparkling emeralds, full of wonder and hope and a promise of tomorrow, then he wanted to be sure he treasured every last second. In a few quiet moments, he swept his hand over Vane’s cheek, and basked in the warmth underneath his fingertips, “We’ll always make it.”

“Good night, Lan-chan.”

“Good night, Vane.”


End file.
